


Dracarys

by WildfireKhaleesi



Series: Stormborn [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 17:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8586592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildfireKhaleesi/pseuds/WildfireKhaleesi
Summary: Y/N and Daenerys Targaryen are twins, of the House Targaryen, of the blood of Old Valyria.And now they've brought back dragons.





	1. Unburnt

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING : Implied non-consensual sex! If this is a trigger for you, I'd suggest not reading!

You lowered your naked body into the steaming water. The first time you had, your handmaiden had almost jumped in after you.  
No one in the khalasar had understood that you and your twin sister truly had the blood of dragons in your veins. It’s a gift, Viserys had told you. He’d also had both you and Dany convinced that he’d been the only one with the dragon blood in his veins.  
Throughout your childhood you and Daenerys had never questioned your older brother. You’d assumed he was right, and you’d never anger him in fear of awakening the dragon.  
You’d both agreed to be married to powerful men outside of your family line. Which came as a shock to you, you’d both expected to wed Viserys.  
Daenerys had been offered to Khal Drogo, who owned a massive Khalasar. You’d been promised to Doran Martell, the official ruler of Dorne.  
It wasn’t until Daenerys’s wedding that you’d realized Viserys had lied. You’d tipsily stumbled into one of the lit braziers. Shock had you immediately clutching the brazier, not wanting to topple over completely. Daenerys had jumped up and rushed to your side to help you. The both of you were bewildered when you saw that your skin was unburnt.  
The day after her wedding you had met with Dany in her tent, testing your ability again with hot water, fire, and red hot coals. When you’d remained unburnt after them all, Dany tried it herself; you’d both looked at each other when you saw that she’d remained unburnt as well. And you’d both grown a nearly overwhelming emotional attachment to the long ago turned stone dragon eggs that she’d received during her wedding.  
She’d given you the cream colored egg, the one she’d oft caught you staring at. You were beyond thankful, showing your gratitude by staying by Daenerys’s side throughout everything, including the deathly crowning of your brother.  
And now here you sat, in water at a temperature no norman individual would be able to withstand. Your body ached from the constant riding, and your head swam with the recent events.  
You couldn’t imagine how Daenerys was feeling. She’d fallen pregnant, her unborn son Rhaego being proclaimed the stallion who mounts the world. Your nephew. But then Drogo had been injured. Dany had been leaning on you throughout his illness, and you both knew that within the next two days he’d be gone.  
Mirri Maz Duur was her only hope now. Especially when her stomach was now so large. Rhaego could be born any minute.  
“Princess Y/N.” Your handmaiden, Eola, spoke softly in the harsh Dothraki language, entering your tent.  
“Yes?” You asked in the same tongue, turning in the large metal tub.  
“Your sister- Khaleesi, she has asked for you...She’s planning on having the maegi do something with Khal Drogo.”  
You stood at once, allowing Eola to dry you off and dressing you in your horse leather pants and sleeveless shirt. The material was rough against your skin originally, but after months of traveling with the Dothraki, you’d become used to the sensation. Eola helped to strap on your sandals and pin up your white hair, and then took your arm in hers and quickly led you to your sister.  
Her tent was left open under the pink sky, inside limitless candles were lit. Dany sat on her knees to Drogo’s side. You walked up, sitting on your knees as well and hugging your sister close.  
“I don’t know what to do..” She whispered in the common tongue.  
“Oh, Dany.” You croaked out, pulling her trembling frame tighter against yours.  
You felt her tears dampen your shoulder blade, but paid it no mind as you struggled to comfort your sister.  
You reluctantly separated from your sister when Ser Jorah entered the tent, Mirri Maz Duur, Qotho and Haggo following behind them.  
You all watched as Mirri rounded Drogo, peeling back the leaves she had placed over Drogo’s chest to examine his injury.  
“The wound has festered.” She stated simply, shaking her head, the Dothraki language adding a harshness to her words.  
“This is your work, maegi,” Qotho spat, face scrunched up.  
Haggo laid a fierce slap against Mirri’s face, and you felt anger bubbling in your chest, however yours was unmatched against Dany’s.  
“STOP IT!” She screamed, struggling to stand up, so you lend her your hand and assisted her gently.  
“Slaps are too merciful for a maegi. Take her outside, we will stake her to the earth, to be the mount of every passing man. And when they are done with her, the dogs will use her as well. Weasels will tear out her entrails and carrion crows feast upon her eyes. The flies off the river shall lay their eggs in her womb and drink pus from the ruins of her teats.”  
“No!” You shouted, nostrils flaring as you stepped between the two blood riders and Mirri. Dany watched wearily, her face paling at the exertion of energy.  
“I will not have her harmed.” She growled, stepping next to you slowly. Her words harsh and loud.  
“No? You say me no? Better you should pray that we do not stake you and your sister out beside your maegi. You did this, as much as the other.” Qotho spat, ugly teeth peeking through parted dry lips.  
Ser Jorah gently pushed the two of you to the side, hand on the hilt of his sword as he sized up the two men, “Rein in your tongue, bloodrider. Daenerys is still your khaleesi.”  
“Only while the blood-of-my-blood lives. After that, she is nothing.”  
“Before she was khaleesi, we were blood of the dragon. Must we summon our khas?” You spat out angrily, guarding Dany’s pregnant form.  
“No, we will go. For now…khaleesi.” Qotho tipped his head angrily towards the group of you and left with Haggo.  
“Ser Jorah, it seems my sister and I may need some protection, I advise that you go and don your armour.” You spoke softly, turning and hugging your sister tight again.  
“As you say.” He bowed, leaving the tent to the two of you and Mirri Maz Duur.  
“So you have saved me once more.” Mirri addressed you and Dany.  
“And now you must save him.” Dany said, “Please.”  
“You don’t ask a slave, you tell her.” You both watched as she examined the wound once more, “ask or tell, it does not matter. He is beyond healing. All I can do is ease his pass.”  
“Save him and I will free you I swear it.” Dany rushed out, near collapsing.  
“I can not do this.” Mirri replied.  
“There must be a way you can do this. Some- Some magic.”  
“There is a spell.” Mirri answered after a moment. “Some would say death is cleaner.”  
“Do it.” Daenerys replied hesitantly, resting on her knees again as you stood.  
You were growing anxious, nerves on fire as you listened to their conversation. You hadn’t realized you had left the tent until Qotho had his arms around you. Your body tensed up, your mouth opening to scream; but no sooner had you opened it when you felt a strong blow to the back of your head and lost consciousness.  
You dreamt that you were in the house with the red door that you and Daenerys had loved so much. Viserys was always preoccupied, planning to take back Westeros rather than enjoying childhood with you and Dany. You’d both always worried about your older brother, scared that he wasn’t having enough fun; but never courageous enough to suggest it. Neither of you had wanted to wake the dragon.  
You were walking down the hallway towards the red door, wanting nothing more than to exit the house as fear started to shoot through you. Now you were running, trying to reach the door that seemed to just get further away with every step. You ran, and you ran, and you ran; until finally the door seemed to appear right in front of you.  
You turned around, looking for whatever was scaring you, but you were alone. You hesitantly reached for the handle, and then you opened the door.  
Light seemed to pour out of it, assaulting your unadjusted eyes. You shielded them, mouth gaping open when you realized where you were.  
You’d only heard of it from the stories Viserys had told you. Westeros was a far beyond foreign concept to you and your twin. But you were here. You were in Westeros. You could tell by the cool air and the greenery surrounding you. You were on a hill, sky a clear blue ahead of you.  
Warmth surged through you from behind, it wasn’t until you heard the intake of air that you realized it was breath you were feeling. You tensed, turning your neck slowly as you held your breath.  
A dragon? You’d thought they’d all died years ago, but a large golden dragon sat behind you now. Hesitant as you’d been with the door handle you slowly raised an outstretched hand towards the large creature; heart hammering in your chest.  
“Hello.” You whispered.  
The dragon gazed at you lazily, rubbing its large head against your outstretched hand. As soon as you touched you’d known that this would be real one day. You’d have this.  
And then you were somewhere else. It was so cold. So very cold. You could see a huge ice structure in front of you, and you froze in your tracks when you chanced a glance behind you.  
More people than you’d ever seen. Just standing there, looking directly in front of them. One step in front of the other, you walked towards them, strides at first; but the closer you got, the more uncomfortable you got. Taking baby steps now, you approached the figures.  
A voice in your mind was screaming for you, begging you to wake up.  
You watched as a large pale figure stepped out in front of you, eyes bluer than any blue you’d ever glanced upon. He had no hair, but misshaped ice in its place. A clear and sharp crown situated atop it all.  
He didn’t speak, just reached for you. You stood still, too scared to move.  
I’m blood of the dragon, you thought to yourself, you can not hurt me.  
But as soon as his hand came into contact with your right one, you felt pain unlike any other. Your insides froze, your brain felt like it was on fire. Your body ached something awful…  
And then you were awake. You glanced around, breathing heavy as you made sure you were okay. Your right hand felt like it was on fire, and you cried out when you saw that it was swollen and clearly broken.  
Your pants were torn, shirt askew. Blood ran between your thighs and your breasts ached. You sat up, pain shooting through you like a current. I’m in a ditch, you realized, putting your shirt back on and trying to retie your pants.  
Drums were beating in the distance, and you swore you could hear a woman screaming.  
“Y/N!” Someone screamed. “Princess Y/N! Where are you?!”  
“Jorah?! Ser Jorah!” You shouted back, voice cracking.  
“Princess! I hear you. Keep shouting!”  
“I’m in a ditch!” You shrieked, head throbbing. “Jorah, please help me!”  
Blood rose in your throat, and you spit it out, sobbing as you realized what Qotho had done to you.  
Jorah’s footfall came closer and you scrambled to climb out of the ditch, but you were too weak and hardly made it a foot up before you fell back on your right hand and let out a blood curdling screech.  
He was next to you in seconds, easily hoisting you into his arms, and wrapping you in his cloak.  
“Who did this to you?” He spat out, climbing out of the ditch with you and running back towards the tents. They hadn’t taken you far, you realized. Just a few hundred feet.  
“It was Qotho” You told him, tears collecting in your eyes again as you thought about what you’d just lost.  
“If it please you, I killed him”  
“What? Not that I don’t approve, Ser, but why?”  
“He hurt the Khaleesi.” He told you between panting as he ran.  
“Dany? What’d they do to my sister?” You shouted, looking frantically towards the nearing tents.  
“Daenerys is fine, Y/N. I assure you.”  
“And Rhaego? What of him?”  
Anger rose in you when he didn’t answer. You tried to struggle in his arms, but you couldn’t even muster the strength to do that.  
Defeated, you rested back against his chest, tears falling freely as you thought of your nephew.  
As soon as he set you down in the tent of your sleeping sister you were cuddling her sleeping form. The large belly she had only hours before was now gone. No sign of a baby in sight.  
Sweat was rolling off of her, pale lips quivering as she stirred in her sleep.  
“Gently, Dany,” You whispered, “Gently.”  
“Y/N?” She croaked out, eyes slitting open. “Ser Jorah? Where’s my son? I want him.”  
Jorah closed his eyes, and your sister looked to you, “Where is he?”  
“The boy did not live.” Jorah whispered, and your sister clutched your left hand as Jorah went to wrapping your other. You ground your teeth in pain, holding on to your sister in support.  
“Tell me.” Dany spoke finally as Jorah finished.  
“What is there to tell?”  
“Tell me why my son did not live?!” She shouted.  
You all turned as the tent flap rustled and Mirri stepped in, devilish grin on her face.  
“He never lived, my princess.” She answered lowly.  
“What?” Daenerys whimpered, tears cascading down her face as you helped to sit her upright.  
“The child was monstrous. Twisted. I pulled him out myself. He was scaled like a lizard, blind, with leather wings like the wings of a bat. When I touched him,” she continued, “the skin fell from his bones. Inside he was full of grave worms. I warned you that only death can pay for life. You knew the price.”  
“Where is Khal Drogo? Show him to me.” Dany spat, standing up and leaning against Jorah. “Show me what I bought with my son’s life.”  
You followed slowly behind them, Eola at your side, as the maegi led you along a cliff side; the morning sun rising.  
“The khalasar is gone.” Ser Jorah was saying as you tuned in.  
“A khal who cannot ride is no khal. The Dothraki follow only the strong.” Eola explained to you as you approached Drogo’s figure.  
Your sister fell at his side, grasping his face in between her small hands.  
“He lives.” Mirri smiled. “You asked for life, you payed for life.”  
“This is not life!” You shouted angrily, “when will he be as he was?”  
“When the sun rises in the west, sets in the east. When the seas go dry. When the mountains blow in the wind like leaves.”  
“Leave us.” Daenerys ordered, grabbing your hand so you’d stay.  
You were still extremely dizzy and standing on the edge of a small cliff was not helping your nerves.  
“I don’t want to leave you two alone with this woman.” Ser Jorah stiffly spoke, glaring at the maegi.  
“We have nothing more to fear from this woman. Leave us.” Dany reassured, glancing up at Mirri.  
You stood over Khal Drogo, watching his eyes aimlessly stare out across the desert.  
“You knew what I was buying and you knew the price.” Dany growled out.  
Had you not been disoriented from your own experience you might have made an attempt at choking the maegi. But you had, and you were far too exhausted to harm even a fly.  
“It was wrong of them to burn my temple.” Mirri answered, shrugging. “It angered the Great Shepherd.”  
“This is not God’s work.” You shouted, “look at him!”  
“My child was innocent.” Dany added, “Rhaego. Rhaego was innocent!”  
“Innocent?” Mirri asked, perplexed. “He would have been the stallion who mounts the world. Now he will burn no cities. Now his khalasar will trample no nations into dust.”  
“I spoke for you. I saved you.” Your sister spat, standing alongside you.  
“Saved me? Three of those riders had already raped me before you saved me, girl. I saw my god’s house burn, there where I had healed men and women beyond counting. In the streets I saw piles of heads. The head of a baker who made my bread, the head of a boy I cured of fever three moons past.” She explained, venom in her voice as she assessed the two of you. “Now tell me girl, what is it you saved?”  
“Your life.” You answered, stepping in front of Daenerys. “She had no reason to pull you from her Khal’s men, but she did so anyway. She had no need to protect you from his bloodriders when they wanted your head before letting you heal Drogo, but she did so anyway. She saved your life, and she didn’t even need to.”  
“Why don’t you look at your sister’s Khal? Then you will see exactly what life is worth when the rest has gone.”  
“Y/N, please remove this woman from my presence.” Dany asked, tears spilling as she looked to the man she loved. “And send Ser Jorah and Rakharo. I will need their assistance to bring my sun and stars to our tent.”  
Nodding wordlessly, you escorted the maegi down the cliff face. Ser Jorah was waiting at the end of the trail, eyes lighting up when he saw you were okay.  
“Where’s the Khaleesi?” He asked, azure eyes searching yours.  
“She’s asked for a few moments alone with Drogo. She will require your and Rakharo’s assistance in transporting him to their tent.” You told him, shoving the maegi into his arms. “Chain her up before you go.”  
You hadn’t noticed until you returned to your tent just how disgusting your skin felt. Especially in between your thighs. You called for Eola immediately, having her draw you yet another bath. You apologized, truly not wanting to over exert her.  
“If it please the princess, I am happy.” She told you, brown eyes sparkling and her brown ringlets cascading down her face.  
“I thank you Eola. You have been serving me well.”  
She smiled at your comment before helping to undress you, her jaw dropping when she saw the dried blood under the cloak Ser Jorah had given you to cover up. You shook your head, not wanting to revisit the trauma just yet.  
You’d had her draw the water especially hot; and you were glad you had. The heat melted away the ache in your body but the water did not help you to feel any less dirty. You’d figured it never would. Unclean, you told yourself. You weren’t pure anymore. Your maidenhood had been robbed from you and you’d never get it back.  
Glancing towards the large stand that sat in the far back of your tent you eyed your dragon egg. The dream! You’d almost forgotten the dream.  
Shakily you stood up, allowing Eola to dress you in your robe before walking over to the stand. You picked up the large golden egg, it seemed to heat up at your touch. It’d never done that in the hundreds of times you held it. Unthinking, you laid down on your bed, covering yourself with a desert lion fur and holding the egg between your breasts.  
Your nerves calmed the closer you held it against you, and then you were asleep.  
“Ser Jorah?” You whispered as the broad shouldered man gently shook you awake. “What time is it?”  
“Nearing nightfall, princess.” He answered, eyebrows furrowing when he glanced the egg you still held close to your chest. “The Khaleesi has asked that you accompany her with your egg.”  
You looked at him confused, but obliged. Standing in your silken robe and following him to Daenerys’s tent. You stopped mid-step when you saw the large funeral pyre that stood only a hundred feet from the camp.  
“Drogo?” You asked out.  
“Gone.” Ser Jorah answered, a sad lilt in his voice.  
Daenerys was hugging you as soon as you’d entered the tent, ordering Ser Jorah to await the two of you outside of the tent.  
“Did you bring the egg?” She asked.  
“Of course, but Dany what’s going on?”  
“I have a feeling. I think I may know how to...hatch them.” She explained her idea, stopping at the end to give you time to consider and consent.  
“I’ll do it.” You finally told her, smiling.  
Near an hour later and you stood side by side with your sister, looking towards the funeral pyre and where your eggs rested alongside Drogo’s body. Both of you holding a torch in your hands. What was left of the Khalasar had gathered behind you, wails of grief echoing in the dark night.  
“Drogo will have no use for dragon eggs in the Night Lands. Sell them.” Ser Jorah advised, walking up and standing aside you and your sister. “You both could return to the free cities and live out your days as wealthy women.”  
“They were not given to me to sell.” Daenerys snapped, holding your left hand in her right.  
“Khaleesi, Princess, I know what the two of you intend, but please; do not.” He choked out.  
Did he truly think you’d kill yourselves?  
“We must.” You answered. “You don’t understand, Ser-”  
“Don’t ask me to stand aside as you both climb that pyre. I won’t watch you burn.”  
“Is that what you fear?” Dany asked, looking at the outlaw knight for the first time since he’d spoken. She kissed his cheek, and after she had, you did the same.  
“You will be our Khalasar.” Dany spoke to the people behind you.  
Your eyes widened at her words. Our? Did she mean to allow you to rule alongside her?  
“I see the faces of slaves,” she continued, “I free you. Take off your collars. Go, if you wish; no one will stop you. But if you stay, it will be as brothers and sisters; husbands and wives.”  
She looked at you, and nodded, giving you the go-ahead.  
“Ser Jorah, bind this woman to the pyre.” You spat, pointing towards the maegi who rested on her knees in chains.  
“I am Daenerys Stormborn, next to me my sister Y/N Stormborn; we are of House Targaryen, of the old blood of Old Valyria. We are the dragon’s daughters and we swear to you that those who would harm you will die screaming.” Daenerys shouted, looking at your Khalasar.  
“You will not hear me scream!” Mirri Maz Duur shouted from her place on the pyre.  
“I will.” Daenerys spat. “But it is not your screams we want. Only your life.”  
Daenerys turned, the both of you gripping your torches tightly. You didn’t know how you hadn’t passed out from using your right hand, the pain was excruciating; but you held in your screams. Bottling the anger so that the fire would use it.  
Bending down, you lit the right center of the first ring as Dany lit the left. The two rings of branches around the center pyre took flame quickly, and you waited as you listened to the maegi’s singing turn to screaming.  
Slowly, you stepped hand in hand into the flames with your sister. The flames engulfed your clothing, but you didn’t feel an ounce of pain. You looked to your sister and saw the flash of a smirk on her face.  
You followed her to the center pyre, stepping under and lying beneath it, allowing the surrounding flames to engulf you whole as you waited.  
You felt the claws before you heard their breathing. The cracking of the eggs had been entwined with the crackling of the wood. It felt like hours had passed. Sitting up, you looked down at the cream colored dragon that had latched onto your left arm to climb his way up and onto your shoulder. You looked to Dany, seeing a black and red dragon doing the same.  
The green dragon crawled between the two of you, smoke rising from his nostrils as he examined the surrounding flames and his two brothers.  
You looked to your right hand, the bandages had burnt off, but what surprised you was the pain that was no longer there. You’d completely healed.  
Stunned, you looked to your sister, smiling and crying all at once. Hugging each other tight, and laying back down; you fell asleep with three dragons resting between you.  
Waking up and still feeling the warmth the dragons emanated brought a smile to your face. Your cream colored dragon rose his head as you stirred, letting out a small hiss and moving to rest on your shoulder again, laying his head against the top of your naked breast.  
“Dany, wake up.” You whispered, nudging her gently.  
Her eyes flickered open and landed on you and your dragon, and she broke into a smile and tears again. Her black and her green woke up slowly, hissing as yours had done and then crawling onto Daenerys’s lap.  
“We did it.” She whispered out, scratching the head of her green dragon.  
“We did it.” You reassured.  
You heard the footsteps, and slowly you stood up, your dragon lifting his head lazily and peering at the scenery. Daenerys grabbed your hand and squeezed as she stood, too.  
You could hardly make out Ser Jorah’s figure through the heat and smoke, but he was there. Rakharo and Cohollo behind him.  
Your dragon screeched out, eyeing the men suspiciously. Daenerys’s black dragon following after.  
The green fluttered clumsily from Dany’s shoulder to your thigh, hissing at the men in front of you.  
The men’s eyes were wide, unbelieving as they looked from you to your twin.  
“Blood of my blood.” Ser Jorah shouted, kneeling before you and your sister. Cohollo and Rakharo followed, and soon the whole Khalasar was kneeling, heads to the ground. There the two of you stood, naked, dragons adorning your frames, unburnt.


	2. Red Wastelands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is a filler chapter! There's not much meat to it, but it's gotten me back into the excitement of writing Dracarys! Please understand that I in no way harbor any resentment towards Daenerys Targaryen. This is fiction! I wanted the story of Game of Thrones to be centered around the reader, and in order to achieve that, some things have to be changed, such as Daenerys ruling Westeros. Please enjoy! More chapters will be coming soon! xoxox

You sat still as a statue while Eola wrangled your hair into two braids intertwining like a halo around your head. You and Daenerys, your twin sister, had decided following Dothraki tradition to symbolize your victories would benefit your growing relationship with your small khalasar.  
The numbers with you were primarily old or weak, the majority of the strong and able bodied men and women having left to return to Vaes Dothrak; leaving your small khalasar walking across a desert without viable protection.  
You could tell that the heat was getting to your sister. Her temper had grown short and brought Drogon’s with it.   
Daenerys had named her black after her late husband. You’d both named your shared green after your eldest brother. While his human counterpart had been named Rhaegar, your green had donned the name Rhaegal. And you had named your golden after your most recent late brother.   
Your brother had been named Viserys. He was heartless, cruel, and selfish. His dragon would be the opposite. So you’d named your dragon Viserion.   
He was strong, cunning and resilient; patient but never allowing his brothers to step on him. He was a calm flame, but the heat reminded those who’d cross him or you that he was still dangerous, deadly so. Rhaegal was cunning, strong minded and quiet. He was a flame open to many interpretations; no single flicker defined him wholly. And Drogon was wild, self sufficient and single minded. He was an unkempt flame that no single person could control, wildfire some might say, and you worried that that rule had applied to Dany as well.   
They were still small children, only capable of smoking half of their food, and not yet able to go out on their own and capture their food. You and your sister had made sure that any of the horses that fell were to be butchered and cured to where your children and khalasar could remain fed. Yet Drogon still worried you.   
You’d seen him bully his brothers in order to get more food, or more of Daenerys’ attention; and you couldn’t say you really minded his loyalty to her. It’d left you with far more time to tend to Viserion and Rhaegal. You’d taught both to spit their flames upon the command “dracarys” within the first few days of their lives, whilst Drogon climbed upon Dany’s shoulders and listened to conversations between her and Jorah.  
The dragons, although young, were intelligent. You’d even go as far to say as they understood every word spoken around them, regardless of the fact that they couldn’t speak back. Both Viserion and Rhaegal responded to their respectful names, and both would listen to near any command you’d given them, their stubbornness only preventing them from a few times so far.   
Drogon would hiss and try to nip at your sister’s handmaidens, but you couldn’t blame the dragon or your sister for his behaviour.   
In Drogon’s eyes, Dany was his mom. He wasn’t about to listen to anyone aside from her, and she was always preoccupied with listening to Jorah and leading the throng of you and the Dothraki towards safety. Your sister was an admirable woman, and nothing anyone could say about her that was malicious was true.   
You’re drawn from your thoughts as you near your twin and hear her starting to give orders in Dothraki, her mare that Drogo had given her as a wedding gift lay dead at her feet.   
“Rakharo, Aggo, Kovarro.. Take our remaining horses. Find out how far the Red Waste extends before us, and what lies on the other side.” She says softly, lips chapped and blistered, as your own surely were.   
The men nod at your sister, gathering their horses before setting off.   
“Everyone else,” Dany continues, “we’ll be waiting here until they return. We’ve earned the rest.”   
“Jorah,” you say, walking up to the Westerosi and your sister, “please make sure that everyone’s properly set up their tents. I’d like to speak with my sister.” Jorah bows towards the both of you before turning on his heel, heeding to your word.   
“I knew you’d had it in you.” Your sister tells you, feeding a small scrap of meat to Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal both hiss from atop either of your shoulders, jealous that their brother had been given food.   
“I have what in me?” You asked, brows furrowing.   
“What it takes to lead.” She answers simply, pulling two more chunks of meat out of her pockets and tossing them to the two dragons on you. Each catches their respective pieces in their mouths, chewing slightly before swallowing the raw meat whole.   
“Dany, I’m not you. I wasn’t-”   
“What? Raised for this? My dear sister, you forget that our brother promised you to Doran Martell. You were supposed to lead in Dorne. You had a bigger part to play in Viserys’ plans than even I.”   
You realize for the first time that she was right. Whereas Daenerys would be leading Khalasars alongside Khal Drogo, you’d been assigned to be a powerful ally for Viserys. Someone who could help him rule the seven kingdoms from Dorne. Daenerys would secure Viserys a military, but you’d secure him a chunk of Westeros, and possibly Essos as well.  
“The title of Khaleesi may belong to me,” Daenerys states, “but you’re the true queen here.”   
You’re completely taken aback by her statement, dumbfounded by the implication behind it. She was offering you Viserys’ place.   
“Dany, I-”  
“I can’t be queen of Westeros,” she snaps, “I’m far too brittle to hold the title now. I’ve lost my son, my husband… All I have left are you and our dragons. I don’t want to be queen. I don’t want to lose more people dear to me. I’ll break. You don’t have to say yes now, but you’re more fit to lead once we set for Westeros. I won’t wed again, not after Drogo, but you can. You can win us back our home, Y/N. Can’t you see that? You’re the rightful heir. The older sister.”   
“I don’t know if I’m ready…” you whisper, voice cracking from the gravity of the topic.   
“I wasn’t ready to wed Drogo, and I wasn’t ready to be a mother, but those months with my husband at my side and my child in my belly were the happiest of my life. Just think about it, please…”   
You nod your head slightly, accepting the seriousness of her words and letting her know that you’d consider her request. She hugs you tight, her frail figure still strong, as Jorah walks back over to the two of you, preparing a place for the three of you to sit and wait.   
The heat is unbearable, earth seemingly scorched from where you sit, and though you’ve found solace in eyeing the comet in the sky every so often, the hours pass by slowly. Jorah offers you and your sister water every so often, which you both accept with bated breaths, but the water is also considerably warm from sitting in the sun.   
The day’s nearly halfway over before you hear the footfalls of a horse running towards you, and you help Dany rise to her feet as you wait.   
“Dany…” you choke out, seeing that the horse running towards you is without a rider, and the steed is painted red. What scares you the most, however is the sack tied to the saddle, dripping a thick gooey substance, flies surrounding it and what looks to be tufts of fur peeking out from within. “Jorah,” you signal him to head for the horse and hold your sister back lightly.   
You both wait, watching Jorah’s face fall as he looks into the sack.   
“You don’t need to see this,” he warns each of you.  
“He is blood of my blood.” Daenerys retorts, walking forward with you at her side. Your breathing hitches as she lifts the opening of the sack, and you realize that it wasn’t fur you’d seen, but human hair; belonging to the decapitated head that sits inside.   
“Who did this?” Daenerys asks Jorah.  
“Khal Pono, perhaps Khal Jhaqo. They don’t like the idea of women leading a Khalasar.”   
“They will like it far less when we’re done with them.” Daenerys spits, stepping aside from the horse as Irri, her handmaid, walks forward and sees the head.   
The young woman falls to her knees instantly, sobs escaping her mouth as she cries out.   
“No!” She yells in Dothraki, “they killed his soul!”   
“Shhh…” Daenerys soothes, hugging Irri, “they cannot kill his soul.”   
“They did!” Irri cries, “they butchered him like an animal! They did not burn his body. He can never join his ancestors in the Night Lands.”   
“We will build him a funeral pyre. Immediately.” You tell Jorah, heart aching for Irri.   
“Rakharo will ride with his ancestors tonight.” Daenerys reassures the small woman, squeezing her against her small frame.   
As you watch your sister care for Irri your resolve strengthens. If Daenerys truly didn’t want to be queen of Westeros, you’d agree to taking over. You’d make everyone who’d harmed your sister and your people pay for what they’d done in fire and blood.


End file.
